


you were a child (crawling on your knees toward it)

by cantina



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Season/Series 01, set about 3 years before the start of the show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 17:33:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21212429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cantina/pseuds/cantina
Summary: Years before Will Byers is dragged into the Upside-Down, he meets a child in the forest





	you were a child (crawling on your knees toward it)

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first attempt at writing for the st fandom, and tbh it's more of a glorified character study than anything, but i hope y'all enjoy it anyway!

Will was nine years old when he met Eleven.

Autumn, 1980, when the world filtered in through his eyes in hazy gold and the sky was the bluest he'd ever seen it. The woods were bright and open, untainted by the future horrors they would hold gates to. 

The forest currently served as a playground to a group of young boys, four of them scattered throughout in an ongoing game of hide and seek. It was Mike's turn to seek, and Will was curled in a particularly deep dent between a tangle of tree roots. The earth was carpeted in freshly fallen orange leaves, and the scent of soil and petrichor permeated the air. Will was slightly worried that he would be found quickly; although he was very small, and his hiding place could easily shield him from view, the excess of clothes that he was wrapped in doubled - or maybe even tripled - his body mass and crinkled loudly against the leaves.

It wasn’t particularly cold out, but still Joyce had bundled Will in a multitude of layers. “We don’t want you getting sick, baby, not right before Halloween.” She had said, wrapping a scarf around his neck as he tried to escape out the door. And Will secretly agreed with her, even if he had fought and fussed over the many sweaters and giant coats she had piled on him. Halloween was one of his favourite times of the year, a time where it was socially acceptable for him to dress up and ask as many random people as possible for sweets. It was when the weather changed, when the nights started getting longer and the air started getting colder and hot food started tasting richer. There was no way he was going to miss out on it.

Will heard something moving close by. At first he thought it was Mike coming to find him, or Lucas and Dustin looking for new hiding spaces, but he ruled his friends out quickly. They were much louder than that, always chattering away even when they tried to be sneaky, footsteps heavier, unable to resist the crunch of leaves underfoot. These steps were light, almost silent. Will would not have heard them if he himself was not dead quiet, if there was even the slightest breeze or briefest birdsong. 

He wondered if it was a fox or raccoon, and this sparked his interest. He’d seen a raccoon once, shuffling down the street as he’d biked back from Mike’s last November, but it had been dark and foggy and the creature had moved quickly out of sight at the sound of his approach. He tried to resist peeking out of his hole, in case Mike was around and spotted him, but then whatever it was started coming closer. 

The thing had been quick at first, rapid small pattering of feet like thin rain, but was slowing down as it got nearer to him. While before it had been in a hurry, running away, now the footfalls seemed cautious, like it knew Will was there and was afraid of alerting him to it’s presence. It came to a steady halt on the other side of the mound, just a layer of dirt and particularly thick tree root away from him. Will could hear it breathing, flighty and frantic and shallow drags of air, like it was scared.

There was a crack, Will noticed, around level with his hip, a space between the soil and the root that would be just big enough to let him see what it was. He tried shuffling down to it, but his coat was too awkward to maneuver in lying down - especially in such a small space - and he didn’t want the rustling fabric to tip the thing off and make it run away. So, as carefully as he could manage, he shed the jacket, working one arm free and then the other over the course of a few minutes. By the time he could move without it, the creature’s breathing had slowed somewhat, still panicky but a little more even.

Will wormed himself down to the hole, closing his left eye so he could peer through with his right, and was shocked still by what he saw.

A child, no bigger than himself, was cowering in the roots. They were skinny, so slight and bony that Will was amazed they had been able to move at all. They looked as though they had been dragged through the forest backwards, their only clothes a thin and bedraggled hospital gown. Their face was streaked with mud and tears, head shaved down to the skin, and bright brown eyes turned and fixed on his own.

Will gasped sharply, and ducked out of sight. The kid scared him, there was no denying it; they were unlike anything Will had ever seen before, and anyone that terrified was surely a sign for bad things close by. He lay frozen against the dirt, silently trying to comprehend what it was that he had seen.

As the seconds ticked by, Will’s memory of the kid became fuzzy and unreliable, like when you hear a bump in the night and then - when nothing else comes of it - start to question whether you actually heard it. His brain became less and less certain that he’d ever seen anything in the first place. Maybe the kid had been a figment of his imagination? Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, he peered slowly over the top of the mound.

No, they were still there, and still looking directly at him. Their eyes were wide, like a deer in headlights, and coiled into an impossibly small ball in the corner of the roots. Will noticed then that they were shivering, and his mother’s raising kicked in. He couldn’t possibly leave the kid cold and frightened, not with Joyce Byers for a mother.

“H-hi? Are you cold?” He asked, and the kid flinched at his voice, as quiet and shaky as it was, jolting back and hitting their head with an audible thump on the root behind them. At the sight he raised his hands in the universal sign of good intention, hurriedly whispering “Don’t be scared, I’m not gonna hurt you.” They didn’t relax at his words, thin muddy limbs still quivering with tension, but they didn’t move to run either so Will counted it as a win.

Without breaking eye contact, he reached down and grabbed his coat, suddenly immensely grateful for it’s ridiculous size. He heaved it up onto their divider, and then backed away as far as he could without losing sight of them. “You can have this, if you want. If you’re cold.” The kid watched him suspiciously, and for a second Will considered the possibility that they couldn’t understand him, that they were deaf or didn’t speak English. Then they darted forwards, snatching the coat up and moving back again faster than a bullet. They huddled back in their corner, eyes wide and wary as they gripped the coat tight to their body. They didn’t move to actually put it on, but something in Will’s chest eased with it in their hands.

A little spark of confidence flared in him. “I’m Will, by the way. Will Byers. Do you have a name?” he asked, moving forwards and leaning against the barrier. The kid frowned, cocking their head in a way that reminded him of when Chester was a puppy. And then they spoke for the first time. “Name?” They asked, voice scratchy like it hadn’t been used in a long time, or like they’d done a lot of screaming. Will didn’t let it set him back, not now that he seemed to be making progress.

“Yeah. What do I call you?” They blinked, obviously confused. “Um.” Slowly, they shuffled forwards, not too close but it still made Will a little proud that he’d managed to put such a flighty kid at some sort of ease. They took a moment to think, and he didn’t hurry them. “Eleven.” Was the eventual answer, and then it was Will’s turn to feel confused. “Like the number?” He asked, and as a response they hesitantly raised their arm to him.

On the inside of their forearm was a little black marking, a tattoo, partially obscured by mud but still legible. **011** it read, and Will startled at it. “You have a tattoo?” They dropped their limb quickly, nodding, and he wasn’t quite sure how to respond to this. “Wow. Where did you get it?” This was clearly the wrong question to ask, and his progress in getting them to relax seemed to be lost. They drew away, back in on themselves, and their face darkened. “Bad men.” They whispered, sounding smaller and younger than even a nine year old. Will felt a shiver run down the length of his spine.

“Are they after you? The bad men? Is that why you’re running in the forest?” He asked them, hesitant and frightened of what their response would be, but still curious. They nodded, and then met Will’s eyes with an almost apologetic look. “Chasing me. Can’t- Can’t get me.” Will felt a little sick, but he pushed it down. He couldn’t leave this kid here to be found by these bad men, whoever they were.

“I’ll help you.” He said, determined. “I can help you hide.” The kid looked stricken, head shaking rapidly. “No. The bad men- they’ll get you.” They whispered, but Will ignored it. In his youth, he thought of these bad men in much the same way he thought about the monster under his bed: it was real, but it wouldn’t get him until the sun went down. For now, while it was still bright out, he felt no fear towards these alleged bad men.

He stood up, caught up and confident in the idea. “I have a special hideout, you know? No one can find it, definitely not bad guys. It’s a castle, and you can stay there until we think of something better.” The kid still seemed scared, face twisted and brow furrowed, but they didn’t say anything this time. "Ok, Eleven. Let's go." He said, climbing out of the ditch to stand proudly on top of the mound. And it was just as he was about to offer his hand down to help them up that a shout rang out not far from where he stood. "Hey Will! I can see you!"

It was Mike standing at the bottom of the hill, hands on his hips and grinning broadly. Will's eyes widened comically, and his mouth dropped open. He had been so caught up in helping Eleven that he'd forgotten all about hide and seek, and now he was found. And what's worse was how Eleven reacted. 

They bolted.

Will watched helplessly as they disappeared back into the forest as fast as their legs could carry them, unable to call them back for fear of Mike spotting them. His coat was left in the ditch, a neon puddle of fabric lying abandoned as the only indicator that the kid had ever been there in the first place. He was dismayed, and slouched moodily over to Mike's side. His best friend was quick to pick up on his disappointment, but chalked it down to being the first one found. They were nine after all, and sore losing was something they were all guilty of. 

It wasn't until the next game, Dustin trampling through the woods at his side in search of Mike and Lucas, that he realised that his coat was still back up in the roots. For a second he considered going back to get it, but decided against it. He would leave it there for Eleven, if they ever came back for it. The kid certainly needed it more than he did.

The temperature had dropped, and under layers of sweaters, Will shivered. He hoped that they would be ok, would manage to avoid whatever bad men where after them and survive the oncoming cold of Halloween. With a heavy heart, he pulled his mind from the kid, and didn't think of them again. Eleven faded out of his mind like a dream.

* * *

Will Byers is twelve years old, and curled sobbing in a ditch.

The air is dark, unnaturally black and heavy with a fetid sickness, and particles of dulled white static swirl around him, spores or snow he does not know. The ill blue roots that circle him are in some way familiar, like some rotted parody of a memory. He curls tighter in on himself, hands coming to grip at his swollen ankle. He had tripped over the roots he now lay in while stumbling around the woods, blind with fear from being hunted for so long, and he thinks he might have twisted it. He hopes it's only twisted, anyway. Somewhere in the distance, a vibrato roar echos.

His eyes are squeezed shut, pain and fear rendering him incapable of opening them, but still tears threaten to leak out. He brings one hand to scrub desperately at his face, but on the way up his fingers brush against something. Something synthetic against his fingertips, that rustles loudly at the slightest touch. Will frowns, and cracks his eyes open.

There, buried under years worth of foliage, is a bright green coat, puffy and ridiculously large.

Will feels his heart seize in his chest at the sight of it, and slowly he reaches out to wrap his hands around it, pulling it tentatively out of the leaves and into his arms. Memories cling to it, adventures from years ago. Biking to Mike's after school, building snowmen in his garden with Jonathan, running through the woods with the Party. And faintly, a sliver of the past that hasn't plagued him for three years. A child, scrawny and coated in mud, holding fast to the coat like a lifeline as they watched him.

And somewhere in a parallel world, Eleven clutches a walkie-talkie and turns bright brown eyes on him again.

**Author's Note:**

> i love these two more than anything, please come and yell about them with me over on tumblr [@baguetterights](https://baguetterights.tumblr.com/)
> 
> title from MGMT - 'Kids'


End file.
